at a shooting lodge not far from the foot of the hill, where he tended
the garden and looked after the pony at ordinary times, and acted as
gillie when the shooting season came round. Peter did most of the work
on the croft, lower down the hill; for David himself was getting past
arduous labors, though he directed the distilling, in which Peter, and
occasionally Jock, did the greater part of the work. Much of the
barley for the still grew on their own land, where also they raised
corn for their own oatmeal and for Maggie Jean's chickens, as well as
turnips for her "coo." The customers for whiskey were many; for owing
to its innocence of government duty it was cheaper than could be got
from a merchant, while for quality it was renowned. Davie was a past
master in the art of distilling, and the secluded nature of his
storehouses enabled him to keep it until its rawness had worn off with
age.

Many a tale was told of Davie's adventures in his contraband trade. In
days when he was young and strong revenue officers would scour the
hills with a small band of soldiers in their company, the better to
over-awe the country folk. On one such occasion Davie had the
misfortune to be apprehended in his house, when off his guard; for he
was well known to the preventive men of the district, who had long been
seeking to trap him. They had tracked him from his still, which they
then took charge of, and surrounded his house to prevent escape. But
Davie was too wary for them in the end. He feigned submission, and got
his old mother to bring out refreshments for the party within the
house, and went himself to the door with glasses and whiskey for the
two soldiers on guard there. But they never tasted their dram; Davie
was the renowned wrestler of the neighborhood, and in a second or two
he had tripped up both men and had made off for some secret
hiding-place in the hills before the party inside, aroused by the cries
of the sentinels, were able to understand what had happened. Both the
unfortunate soldiers had been so badly bruised by their fall on the
flagstones near the doorway that they were unable to rise without help.

At another time he was still more successful. The revenue officers and
their escort surprised his house at midnight, and demanded admission in
the King's name. Old Jeandy, his mother, who was then alive, made as
much difficulty as possible in getting the door open in order to give
Davie time to conceal hims